


I Can't Believe We Just Did That

by tiger_in_the_flightdeck



Series: Tiger's Tumblr Ficlets [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adrenaline shagging, First Time, Gift Fic, M/M, NSFW, Sherlock is far from subtle, topping from bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:30:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_in_the_flightdeck/pseuds/tiger_in_the_flightdeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had avoided being questioned by the police, scrubbed the powder burns from John’s hands, and had a late dinner of dim sum and fried rice. Now, back at the flat, John was still buzzing with energy and adrenaline, despite being nearly 2:30 in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Believe We Just Did That

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [I Can't Believe We Just Did That](https://archiveofourown.org/works/977480) by [ogawaryoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ogawaryoko/pseuds/ogawaryoko)



> I am just bloody awful at writing summaries, so I'm just going to use excerpts... 
> 
> Originally posted over on tiger-in-the-flightdeck.tumblr.com for a follower prompt
> 
> Unedited, so if you see any glaring mistakes, please let me know.

“You never told me what yours said.” John nodded at the slip of paper Sherlock was still fiddling with.

They had avoided being questioned by the police, scrubbed the powder burns from John’s hands, and had a late dinner of dim sum and fried rice. Now, back at the flat, John was still buzzing with energy and adrenaline, despite being nearly 2:30 in the morning.

Tossing his coat onto the back of the sofa, Sherlock held his fortune up. “Mine was ‘There are leaders, and there are followers.’” He wrinkled his nose, and dropped the paper on the desk.

Peeling out of his jumper, John chuckled softly. Eyes slightly wide in wonder that his leg didn’t even twinge, he sat down in the chair Sherlock had provided for him. “Right, that makes a bit of-”

“Since you haven’t moved your bed here, I suppose we will have to use my bed to have sex.” Sherlock unwound his scarf, and hung it up behind the front door.

“Wait, what? What did you just say to me?” John sat up straighter, watching Sherlock putter.

“I suppose we could use the sofa, but I don’t like leather on my bare skin when I am sweating.” Sherlock stalked across the room- which would have been more impressive if he wasn’t forced to hop over a pile of books- while unbuttoning his shirt. Carefully, he straddled John’s lap and shed the shirt to the floor. “Or I could just ride you here.” The detective rocked his hips in a slow circle.

“Sherlock, I thought you weren’t… you know… into this sort of thing.” John’s hands still came to rest on the wide swell of the other man’s hips. His head fell back onto his chair, to look up at him.

Flapping his hand, Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m not proposing a relationship, John. Simply a mutually beneficial end to the evening.” He slouched, running his tongue along the hard line of John’s jaw. “In the morning, you can go back to claiming your heterosexuality, and I will be sated.” He tugged John’s shirt up, and off, grinning when he didn’t put up a fight.

“Why the change of heart?” Leaning forward, John latched his lips onto one tiny nipple, flicking his tongue to bring it to a firm peak. He slid his hands back to cup his flat mate’s arse, pulling him close.

“You killed him. I picked the wrong pill, I’m sure of it now. You saved my life tonight, John.” Sherlock leaned back, his body forming a curved pale line from the point of his chin to the spot where their bodies met. Clutching the arms of the chair, he lifted and dropped gently. “I have never been rescued, before. I found it terribly arousing. Combined with the rush of the entire night, and your obvious advances toward me this evening over dinner, I am afraid if you do not fuck me soon, I will be liable to bite.”

“Well, if you put it like that…” John rolled Sherlock further back, moving one hand up his spine to brace him as he stood. Sherlock squeaked softly and gripped him tightly with his thighs. “Your room, then. I don’t fancy getting chafed by leather, either.”

He carried the other man into the back bedroom, pausing every few steps to push Sherlock roughly against the table, the fridge, the wall, and finally the bedroom door. His lips were bruising in his kisses, leaving tiny marks on pale skin. “Do you want to top, or bottom? I can go either.” John dropped Sherlock onto the bed, and skimmed out of his jeans and pants.

Propping up on one elbow, Sherlock eyed the doctor greedily. “You’re not shy, are you?” He rolled onto his back, and opened his own slacks before pushing them off to the end of the bed. “And I prefer to bottom. In that bag beside my wardrobe, you will find condoms and lubricant. I don’t particularly enjoy being fucked on my knees. Is it alright if we do this face to face?” Shoving a couple pillows behind his shoulders, Sherlock stroked himself lazily.

“God, please stop using that word. It sounds ten times more obscene, coming from you.” John huffed, pulling out an unopened box of condoms, and a half empty bottle of odourless, flavourless lube. Tearing open the foil packet of one of the condoms, John eased back his foreskin to roll it on. He hated putting them on last minute. They dulled the senses enough that he preferred to have as much time to get accustomed to it.

“What word is that, John? Fuck?” Sherlock relaxed back and ran his foot up John’s spine before digging his toes into his hair. “Does it bother you?” He dropped his leg back down, parting his knees. “Knowing how badly I want to be  _fucked_  by you? With that wonderfully thick cock, buried deep in my arse? Christ, John, look at you. You’re almost as big around as my wrist.” Impatiently, Sherlock stuck two fingers into his mouth to coat them with saliva. Letting go with a pop, he moved the hand down between his legs, to smear around his puckered hole.

“Here, let me.” John batted Sherlock’s hand out of the way, and stretched out on his belly. “Lift your legs up a- yes, just like that. Thanks.” He nuzzled down into the damp heat between the man’s thighs.

“John, you don’t have to … do… ignore me. That’s good. Very good.”

With a pleased grin, John parted Sherlock’s cheeks with his thumbs, and lapped his tongue between them. He worked up a mouthful of spit, and licked circles around the slightly salty skin. Once it was coated, he pressed the tip of his long tongue  _in_ , pushing past the snug ring of muscle.

“Fingers, John, please.” Sherlock grabbed a fistful of sandy blond hair in one hand, and the bedsheet in the other. His hips rocked up, and he felt stubble from John’s cheeks scrape across his sensitive skin. “I masturbated this afternoon, before I came here. I should open fairly easily.”

“You sure? Okay, relax, mate.” John dribbled some of the lube onto his fingers, rubbing it to warm up.

“Just do it already!” Sherlock snapped, and glared down.

“Oi! None of your cheek.” John slapped him on the thigh before pushing one finger up to the knuckle. Sherlock was right. After the initial clench, his body accepted the intrusion quite eagerly. Frowning in concentration, John twitched his finger, probing until he found the smooth, small prostate gland. It was healthy and responsive, about the size of a grape.

“Stop giving me a physical, Doctor,” Sherlock shot him a wobbly smirk before sinking back on his pillows. “And  _ **fuck**_  me.” He thumped his fist down on the bed, and bared his teeth at the ceiling.

Gently pulling his hand away, John rose up on his knees. “For god’s sake!” He growled, yanking Sherlock’s hips up onto his lap. “You had better be the best damn shag of my life. Because you are definitely the most annoying.” He grabbed Sherlock by the arm, and pulled him up until he was straddling him, chest to chest. “Here, do some bloody work.” He kissed him, licking into his mouth, and sucking on his lips. “Ride me, mate. Come on.”

John reached down and coated his cock with lube. The latex made soft wet noises as he brought himself back to full hardness. “Hop on,” he lined up, twitching his hips to get into position.

Sherlock gnawed on his lip, and lowered himself down. When just the swollen head of John’s prick breached him, he whimpered and pulled back. “S-sorry. I came down too fast.” He wiped a hand over his face, and cleared his throat. “I’m alright. Can I try again?”

John kissed his neck, sucking a small mark above his collarbone. It would just be covered his scarf. His free hand moved up and down his back, slipping down to part his cheeks open. “It’s okay, love. Take your time. Do you need me to prep you some more?”

“No, I just… need to…” lips pursed in a tiny pout, Sherlock turned to look back. Once he was able to see what was happening, he lowered himself again. This time, he paused when John entered him. “Give me a moment.” He clung to John’s shoulders, his entire body wracked with minute convulsions. “You’re a lot bigger than I’m used to. Even my biggest toy has almost two centimeters less in diameter.” He rested his cheek on the top of his new friend’s head. “Please be patient with me.”

Leaning back, John braced himself on his hands to watch. “Of course, Sherlock. We’ve got all the time in the world.” He tilted to one side so he could run his fingers over the straining muscles of the detective’s long thigh. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Nodding, Sherlock sank down a little further. His mouth fell slack, and his eyes fluttered closed. After several long minutes, he was finally fully seated. “Hurts,” he mumbled, his nails biting into John’s skin. “Good hurt. I feel… god, John, I feel so stretched out. Is it…?”

John laid back on the bed, his hands wrapped around Sherlock’s narrow waist. “Fucking amazing, mate. I’m so glad I’m wrapped, or I’d’ve come off by now.” He bent his knees to place his feet flat on the bed. “Tell me when to move.” He shifted his head, to look the other man in the eyes.

John had never seen anything so beautiful. Sherlock’s skin was flushing pink all over, and he was biting down on his lip. He had leaned forward to rest his palms flat onto John’s broad chest. His head had fallen to the side, his expression open and vulnerable.

“Let me, to start?” To explain, he lifted his hips up. When he felt the head tug at his ring, he giggled softly, and dropped back down, jarring them both.

“Ohh… Christ, Sherlock. If that doesn’t hurt, do it again. Yes!” John’s head slammed back on the mattress. “You are so bloody amazing, love. I knew you would be. I wanked last night. After I looked you up.” His sweat slicked hands roved over Sherlock, trying to touch and caress as much as he could. “Pictured that beautiful mouth of yours wrapped around me. Came so hard, saying your name.”

With his breathing coming in rapid gasps, Sherlock’s reddish black curls bounced with each movement of his body. “Touch me, John. You can move now.” He lifted his arse up, and held still.

“Brace yourself, love.” John gripped his long, slim cock, and jerked him. His hips punched up in smooth, hard thrusts, sending Sherlock jolting up each time they connected. Even through the condom, he could feel the tiniest twitch and clench of muscles. It felt like his prick was being swallowed, sucked in deeper. Already, he had the warm tense sensation forming low in his belly.

“Hurry up, John.” Sherlock choked out. His head dropped forward and his nails dug into the other man’s chest. “Close. Too close. You need to catch up. _Please!”_

John laughed, moving his hand a bit faster. “Thank god, Sherlock. I was holding off.” He took Sherlock’s hand in his own, linking their fingers together. “Almost there, love. Come with me. Fuck! Sherlock, it’s gonna happen!” His eyes snapped wide as the coiled spring of his orgasm was tripped.

Before he could plead with his friend to come, John felt the churning muscles start to milk him. Sherlock’s cock jumped in his hand, and with a strangled cry, they were coming together. John could feel his condom stretch and swell as it was filled, while thick, greyish semen splattered his chest and stomach. Riding out the high, he dragged his fingers through it, bringing them to his lips to he sucked clean. “Fuck… oh god… Sherlock, that was incredible.”

Shaking weakly, Sherlock dropped onto John, the motion separating them. “Thank you for wearing a condom, John.” He kissed the side of his face, sloppily. “I hate having to clean semen from my thighs.” Limp and wrung out, he collapsed to the side, burying his hands into his hair. “Good god… Is it always like that? I don’t remember it ever being like that. Was it…?”

John snatched his tee shirt from the floor and used it to mop up. He pulled his condom off, knotted it, and set it aside to be thrown out. “It has never been like that.” He curled and arm behind Sherlock’s head. “Do you… Should I expect this to happen often? Adrenaline shagging, I mean?”

Yawning, Sherlock cuddled to John’s side. “I don’t know. This was a direct result of you saving my life tonight.” He rose up on his elbow, and arched an eyebrow. “How often do you expect  _that_  to happen in the future?”


End file.
